


mcyt oneshots

by ethrealeis



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Multi, and that's all on hyperfixation baby, assassin technoblade, no beta we die like men, oneshots, only abstract smut here, sleepybois inc is a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethrealeis/pseuds/ethrealeis
Summary: hyperfixation is my passiona load of MCYT oneshots!Requests are closed as of now, however, feel free to still leave ideas!wattpad ;; CATATON1C
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy/Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble - Relationship, Eret/Floris | Fundy, GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Luke | Punz/Sapnap, Minx | JustAMinx/Niki | Nihachu
Comments: 69
Kudos: 302





	1. DISCLAIMER

*cries* 

i made oneshots lol

**chapters : ( & means platonic, / means romantic)**

1\. schlatt/wilbur (APHRODISIAC)

2\. dream/george (SUNSET BEACHWALK)

3\. schlatt & wilbur (platonic/romantic) ((ETERNITY))

4\. karl/sapnap (FLOOR TWENTY-FIVE)

5\. eret/fundy (TRAITOROUS)

6\. schlatt/wilbur (MALL STREETLIGHTS)

7\. schlatt/wilbur (STARSTRUCK BUG)

8\. tommy & tubbo (IT'S SUMMERTIME)

yeah anyway not real people just characters & shit. don't mess that up.

**warnings :**

⨷ angst/fluff/someday smut

⨷ alcohol & drug usage

⨷ violence


	2. aphrodisiac (for you) {schlattbur}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wilbur has a crush on schlatt, and tommy finds out.

* * *

wilbur smiled as he flicked through his phone, on his unmade bed, thinking about... a guy. not just any guy, really. one of his best friends that he'd known for years.

he didn't think it was too much of a big deal. people think about their friends all the time, after all. 

they think about their voice, being as rich and sweet as caramel chocolate, and about how perfect their face would look, encapsulated in your own hands; friends think about how soft and silky their hair was, wanting to grasp it, burrow their face into it, toy with it; surely friends think about clasping their hands in each others, soft, gentle lips clashing against each other-

maybe friends don't think about each other like that. 

"WILBUR! hey, wil!" the brunette was then jerked out of his reverie by a boy, shaking him. 

"wilbur? hey, man, wake up."

it was tommy, his child brother. 

tommy frowned at the grimace plaguing the older man's face. he knew his brother was very rarely like this, locked away in his room like an outcast, equipped with only his phone and a scrapbook 'project' he had been working on for days now. he only came downstairs to fetch food or use the printer. he didn't let anyone look at the printer, either, and if anyone had tried he would have lashed out at them.

"what is it, t _ommy_."

wilbur's voice was hoarse and only slightly audible. he closed his eyes and turned his head away from his concerned brother. 

"wil, all over us are just worried about you. you've put yourself in here for ages now, _please_ , just come downstairs? all of us miss you."

the _us_ referred to the rest of the family, his father, phil, and the oldest son, techno, and tommy himself.

"i don't care. i'm thinking."

"you've been 'thinking' for _days_ , wilbur. please?" tommy was trying not to lash out, but the pressure was getting to him. his voice was starting to choke up, and so he pulled out the final few trump cards. 

"I'll bring...niki! she'll want to come to dinner!"

wilbur didn't stir. 

"uhm...tubbo?"

wilbur sighed and faced the teary boy. "they're great people, tommy." he said tiredly, "but I don't want to talk to anyone."

"what about schlatt?" 

wilbur, who had been in the middle of turning over, made a sound comparable to a small gasp.

"should i call schlatt over?" tommy said, the tears dying as he heard the noise that had come out of his brother's mouth. "do you like that idea?" 

tommy's face turned into a lopsided grin. "i'll call him up right now, o.k? and you better get dressed. i wasn't gonna say this, but you look pretty bad."

wilbur smiled at his honesty. then once he had left, he realised what he had gotten himself into, and freaked out.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

schlatt was half asleep when he got a call from a certain _child,_ asking for him to come over for dinner. it would be a nice change, he thought, seeing as he hadn't seen the family for a while. 

rubbing his eyes, he was about to answer with a sad little 'sure'. he hadn't been out much, and needed an excuse to go outside and socialise properly. 

and then a face came into his mind. any other thought was blocked out in that moment, as that one face fixed itself in his mind. the face belonged to wilbur.

 _fuck_.

he thought about his face, his jokes, his laugh, and how much he had fret when he had stopped getting calls from the guy. he didn't know why, he had never been so worried. maybe that was just friendship.

"wait, tommy, man, can i put you on hold for a second?" he heard tommy say yes, and as soon as he did, he put the phone down, raking his hands through his hair.

_what if wilbur doesn't want to see me?_

_then again, when have i listened to anything that asshole does?_

he unmuted and smiled to himself. "tommy, i'd love to."

"POG! i mean, uh. great! he's been acting so _strange_ recently. i'll ask phil to make a 6pm booking, hm?"

"sure. tell him i'm coming, okay?"

the two chatted a little about minecraft, women; minercraft women. the usual. then said their goodbyes.

"till we meet again at 6, big man."

"see you, tommy."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

it had been an hour since tommy had burst back into his brother's room, seeing him furiously rummage through drawers of clothes, seemingly looking for a good outfit to wear. eventually, tommy had coerced him into lying down and taking a break; for one, even though he had been locked away in his room all this time, he still seemed incredibly tired; and also because tommy was a curious little shit who wanted to find out why his brother was hogging the printer 24/7.

and he was in for a shock.

hiding under wilbur's bed was the scratchbook he had been 'working' on for all these days. it had nothing of note on the cover, and nothing on the back. the pages had been kept in almost perfect condition, with a plastic cover protecting it from any possible rips or stains. tommy paused for a minute, wondering if he should open it.

_fuck it._

Tommy quietly slipped the cover off, being careful as to not wake wilbur. he then prised the book open, and stifled a gasp. 

on the very first page, in neat cursive which tommy knew was wilbur's handwriting, was his name; and under it was the usual 'do not read unless given explicit consent.'

he ignored that and turned the next page, cautiously checking his hands for ink smudges. something told him that wilbur would check this book and eye all its pages for intrusions like a hawk.

the first page had a printed out music sheet, with the neatly drawn notes that tommy couldn't read or understand, accompanied by cute little drawings of rams and flowers along the side and corners. when he looked at the next side, he saw lyrics.

_Baby, don't you know?_ _That I'm spoilt by you_

_A little, just a little over-emotional; a_ _nd it's killing me_

_Baby, don't you know?_ _I'm head over heels_

tommy stared at the words in shock. his brother liked someone? his brother had never spoken about anyone like this before.

he carried on reading.

_I would do anything for you;_ _If only you would love me._

wilbur stirred in his sleep, and tommy's face quickly jerked up to check that his brother was still docile.

he averted his eyes back to the page, and spotted smaller text at the bottom of the lyrics. it was so small, he had to seriously squint to see it.

'for J.'

_J? How many J's does he know?_

then a familiar face struck him, one he was infinitely accustomed to. all his brother's odd behaviour, from the clothes searching, to only wanting to see him. not niki. not tubbo.

to see him. to see schlatt. jonathan schlatt.

tommy, his mouth having dropped right to the floor, flicked through a couple more pages, each one being as sweet and intimate as the last.

upon hearing wilbur stir again, this time seemingly about to wake up, he slipped the book back under its snug plastic cover and took his seat by a chair that was placed by the foot of wilbur's bed.

"hrmphhh? tommy?" mumbled wilbur. his eyes were half shut. he looked as if he had been in heaven, with a candy-coated smile etching its way on his face. 

tommy wondered if he had been dreaming of schlatt.

"ey, wilbur. you better wake up, you've got a date in 40 minutes."

wilbur shot up as quick as a bullet, and went back to the same state of panic, delving into a wardrobe full of jumpers and whale plushies. "wilbur, wilbur. calm down; here, let me help you."

tommy scoured the mess of clothes, all while speaking to the fretting wilbur. "y'know, you really don't have to. we just thought it would be good for you to get out the house more, see? anyway, i think you should wear...this!"

with a flourish, the blonde boy pulled out a long dress shirt and a pair of pale brown trousers, with a black beanie.

"but this is what i usually wear, tommy." 

"exactly."

wilbur stared at him for a while, then he gave him one of his small smiles.

"okay."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

"why are you so nervous, wil? it's just dinner."

"yeah...just dinner."

the family sat in the living room, with phil taking glances at his watch every now and then. 

"tommy, you did tell him that i made a reservation for 6, didn't you?" 

tommy nodded. "it's fine, he's a punctual guy. he's probably just in traffic or something."

the rest of the family started talking, mostly about orders and minor things, while wilbur fiddled with the dark navy jacket he had put on. 

_would he show up?_

_what if he didn't?_

then they heard the doorbell ring. 

"i'll-" tommy said, before being interrupted by wilbur, who rushed out the room and stood in front of the door, when he froze up. the post flap opened up, and wilbur knelt down to the same level, to be met with a pair of soft chocolate eyes. "wilbur? that you there? jesus, man you had me fuckin' worried there. thought you'd left without me."

wilbur stifled out a response. "would never do that, J."

"glad to hear it."

they stayed there in silence for a while, before schlatt gave a little laugh. "hey, man, can i actually come in?" 

wilbur made a small squeaking noise and unlocked the door...

and took in the gaze in front of him. 

schlatt was wearing a crisp white shirt, with a dark red tie which had been slightly loosened. he had a dinner jacket which had been slumped over his shoulder. schlatt gave him a big smile and went over to hug him. 

wilbur didn't want to leave the embrace. he wanted to stay in it forever, taking in all the feelings and inhaling in the scent of lavender, feeling safe and happy for the first time in days. he almost whined when schlatt stepped back, his face slightly pink. 

wilbur's was bright red. 

"you look great."

"thanks, tommy picked the outfit."

schlatt gave another laugh and walked into the living room to greet the rest of the family, leaving wilbur standing there, almost shellshocked, falling ever deeper into love.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

the dinner went well - mostly everyone was glad to see wilbur act like his normal self again - laughing, cracking jokes, subconsciously flirting with waiters. and schlatt. especially schlatt. the rest of the family laughed with them, but tommy now knew wilbur's secret. he wondered how much it hurt him to say 'i love you' without being able to show his true undying love, covert passions, unseen infatuation for someone so close. 

or maybe tommy was just thinking about it too much. 

eventually, schlatt stepped out with the excuse of answering a call. tommy then crept out after him once techno had threatened the waiter for the 5th time. 

he spotted schlatt outside, leaning against a rail by the street, lighting a cigarette. he turned around and saw tommy standing in front of him. "hey, man. what's up?" 

tommy grinned and walked till he was next to him. "whatcha thinking about-"

"tommy, have you ever been in love?"

the question was not what he had been expecting. 

"uh, I don't think so. why'd you ask?" 

"i dunno, man. i don't have a lot of people to talk to about this shit, y'know?" 

the brunette paused, taking a long drag, then letting the smoke escape his lips. "love's a tricky thing. you think you know what you want and how you like it, and the next day you aren't sure anymore."

the blonde kid turned, leaning his back to the railing. "so?"

"so, i don't know what i want. thought I had my whole life planned ahead, you get me? 'get a nice house, nice girl, nice car, in a nice neighbourhood'. what if i don't want that? i just- tommy, man, i don't fuckin' know anymore."

"what if someone liked you? would you care who?"

a pair of chocolate brown eyes narrowed and met tommy's. "what?"

"can i tell you something? i know someone that likes you."

the man's caramel eyes met sharp grey-blue ones. then he sighed and started walking back to the door of the restaurant. "honestly tommy? i've given up trying to find someone. there's just one person who i would be happy with. and that's the one person i can never, ever have."

he left tommy standing by the railing. 

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

"that was fun, right wil?" 

the tall brunette nodded. "yeah." 

"it's pretty late, schlatt... you want to hang at our place for the night? you can kip in wilbur's room, i don't think he'll mind."

wilbur's face perked up, eyes wide. he looked right into schlatt's eyes, wishing him to say yes. 

schlatt's face was dusted with pink blush, barely visible against the darkening sky. "i mean...i can drive back-"

tommy quickly butt in - "you've been drinkin', it's probably not the best idea to drive home this late." 

schlatt looked at wilbur, who was gazing at him, lost in thought. a strong feeling came over him, one of something deep and pleasant. still looking right into the man's eyes, he spoke. "sure."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

"nice room. it's changed a bit."

wilbur nodded. "i didn't like the cream colour. white looks cleaner."

the two sat far apart, eyes averted. there was an awkward silence, interrupted only by a light pattering of rain that had begun to fall outside.

schlatt's eyes passed wilbur on the bed and spotted a guitar propped against the wall, badly hidden behind a chest-of-drawers. his gaze met wil's.

"you still play?"

the taller man shot up, and hazel met caramel again, this time, their faces lingering on each others, perhaps imagining a different place and time, where they can rest in each others arms, without feeling coated in regret at the other 'not feeling the same way'.

"uh, i guess i do. not that much any more."

"can you play now? you're a great singer."

tawny caramel eyes, with their high-in-glucose content, as rich and deep as the sun.

soft bronzed hair; god, wil just wanted to soak in the man's gaze forever.

how, really, could he ever refuse him?

he reached out with a long arm, and picked up the guitar, but hesitated. "is now a good time to mention that i don't have a song?"

"eh. pick one, man."

and so the man did.

he imagined his arms, wrapped tightly in schlatt's, soft, warm, embrace;

he thought about it's unrequited feel, how he would never hold him like that, ever; not even with his dying breath, would he be able to say the three, gorgeous words he had so badly wanted to hear from him;

the clashing of mouths, tasting sweet and perfect, slightly chapped from the cold, still completely untainted in his eyes; warmth, surging through his body, hands searching, pulling at hair; filling minds and hearts with pure, unfiltered ecstasy;

drowning him out, always hiding.

wilbur's voice became stronger, sending a wave of simple bliss through the shorter man's body. he moved next to wil, hands slowly moving towards his leg.

"did i say you were great at singing?"

wilbur smiled gaily, almost blushing at the praise. 

he was fading, fading back into his dreams. he was only vaguely aware of schlatt moving closer towards him, onto the bed. he closed his eyes and imagined.

schlatt's legs hit something under the bed. a book of sorts. he quietly fished it out, trying not to disturb wil, but there was no point.

he was somewhere else, far, far away.

the book slipped out its cover with ease, with schlatt gently placing it on the bedsheet;

then he turned the page.

the music from the guitar mounted in suspension, with schlatt barely realising that the gentle background noise of the song had faded into obscurity, leaving a deep silence in its wake. 

"schlatt...?"

his head flung up, and gazed at wilbur, looking at him with a look of unfathomable worry. 

"oh, shit! i'm sorry, wil, is this stuff..." his voice trailed off as he noticed a tiny line of text in small print. 

'for J.'

"..." 

the silence in the room was thick. eventually schlatt got up and quickly ran out, into the garden where two younger kids were, tommy, and his friend tubbo. at the sight of a disheveled schlatt, tommy rushed towards him, with tubbo in close pursuit, although the latter was obviously more interested in the bees surrounding the flowers than anything else.

"hey, hey, schlatt, what's up? what happened?"

schlatt moved closer to tommy, whispering so that tubbo couldn't hear; not that he'd care much anyway; and told him about everything he had seen. to his surprise, tommy didn't seem too surprised.

"i did try telling you, y'know," tommy muttered. "he's been a complete shut in. look, you don't have to feel the same way-" he said, turning back to tubbo, not meeting schlatt's eyes. 

"-but at least comfort him, please?"

he moved back to face the brunette, and gave him a smile. "you'll work it out. 

i know you will."

and with that, he ran back to tubbo, who was now covered in a collection of dirt he had amassed once accidentally falling head first while trying to reach a beehive. 

bronze hair flew across the elder man's face as he watched the two boys for a while.

tommy was right about one thing, at least. wilbur did love him. 

and really, schlatt knew, that as he thought about the british man's face, that he felt the same way. and now is probably as good a time as any to admit that.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

"wilbur!"

a voice cried out from far, far away, barely reaching the man's ears. 

"wilbur?"

he loved that voice; its slow, accented rhythm was like music to his ears. but he knew it wouldn't last forever. the music would become screams, cries of anger and hurt and betrayal; if only he could wait in his mind forever.

"wilbur, man, please, i need to talk to you."

the pure guilt in his unrequited sweetheart's voice, and the way his voice changed, going from bold and rich to lonely and whimpering in seconds almost made wilbur open his eyes.

he couldn't have, even if he'd wanted to.

the shame of being caught in his fantasy was too great. they would never be normal again.

"wilbur..."

his voice was almost gone now, completely raw and husky from emotion.

"wilbur... i don't care, wilbur."

this one sentence made wil's heart lurch. tears in his eyes, staining them, he scanned schlatt's face for any signs of anger or pain. but there was none. 

instead, he was smiling, with his eyes showing something so esoteric, so arcane, that wilbur wasn't sure what it was; until he realised he had given schlatt the same look, many, many times without him realising.

love.

was it love?

"schlatt...?" his throat tightened, making a strangled choking noise. 

"look, wilbur, i don't know if- if this is the best time to say it, but i love you, o.k? i can't fuckin' stand seeing you like this. please, wil, just-"

he never got to finish his sentence. 

wilbur had already clasped their hands together, warm soft ones meeting cold. he watched schlatt's face, taking in the soft smell of lavender from his shirt, dozing in the golden browns of his eyes. he took in the luscious colours of his hair, beige and bronze, and the marks on his skin, each one looking as perfect as the last. 

finally, schlatt's half closed eyes moved from wilbur's own glossy ones to his lips; pink and opulent, albeit slightly chapped from the cold. to schlatt, they couldn't be more perfect. 

tilting his head slightly, as if seeking confirmation, he moved one of his warmed hands to wilbur's face, cupping it gently.

"i said you were great at singing, didn't i, baby?" mumbled schlatt, his breath grazing wilbur's cheek. the brit blushed at the memory, leaning slightly closer into his golden boy's hand.

"i really meant you were perfect at everything."

and with that, all fantasies became reality, with lips clashing, searching, exploring; soft, warm hands gracing the skin under fancy dress shirts and jumpers - the pair being marooned in a state of the purest ecstasy, one never to be topped again.

neither man wanted or cared to pull apart, but the need for air caused the taller to gasp and pull back, his hands still clasped around his beloved's waist. 

schlatt pulled wilbur down, lying next to him on the crumpled white linen, music sheets sprawled all over, with neither caring to pick them up. in this moment, the only two that mattered was them, entangled together, with heartbeats synchronising, faces glowing, gentle smiles engaging.

resting his head in the nape of wilbur's neck, placing small, purple kisses wherever he went, schlatt began to hum a familiar tune.

_baby, don't you know?_

he exhaled out, giving wilbur the lead.

_i'm head over heels, losing my mind_

wilbur turned and gave his dream-boy a look only lovers know. "schlatt?"

_you say i'm crazy_

_even insane maybe_

the other smiled against his neck in response, whispering softly. "i love you."

_no, i'm just_ _aphrodisiac for you_

"you british bastard, i love you too."

and with that, their bodies and minds completely enraptured, they sung and mumbled the sweetest of nothings till the morning sun rose, blessing them with a new day.

_yeah, i'm just aphrodisiac for you._


	3. beachwalk {dnf}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dreamnotfound? is this still the big thing? i don't really care. here's some food lol
> 
> now influenced by whitewood's beachwalk, but with swapped pronouns!

* * *

it was a quiet, windy day. the sand was cold and brittle beneath the boy's feet, a stark comparison to the soft dry feeling of the sandunes he had just explored. he knelt down, using his hands to meld the sand together on the ground, in a small curved shape resembling a heart.

_he pressed his feet against the boardwalk_

next, wiping his dark hair away from his eyes, he sat cross-legged on the hard sand, drawing curves and spirals into the waterfront, letting the sea air whip around his body, and letting the seafoam gently wet his face. 

he gazed, eyes squinted, at the blazing star shining above him, shielding his face from the blinding light with pale arms.

_he keeps the sunset right with movement in his eyes_

he let his body relax and accepted the gradual warmth of the morning sun splash his face with a renewed sense of joy. 

his eyes skimmed the remaining length of the beach, admiring the cliffaces and lush green grasses separating the plains from the beach, and men with glowing blonde hair and eyes that were greener than the aforementioned grass.

_he knows he'd get away with murder_

"hey, george. what'cha doing?"

the brunette smiled and traced a message.

'just admiring the view.' 

"oh, there's so much to admire about me, i know, i know." the man struck a pose, pouting his lips and turning his face to the shorter's kneeling body. "

ah, i'm just kidding, georgie," the blonde added after noticing the obvious grimace appearing on the face. the nickname didn't help matters, leaving a certain brunette with red ears and an even redder face. he gave up and resumed writing in the gritty sand.

_swallows up your heart of gold, and i don't know just where we've got to go_

'thanks for bringing me here,' he wrote.

"no problem, baby. anything for you."

the brunette gave a wistful sigh and stared out into the fathomless ends of the sea. the golden haired man sat beside him, slinging his arm around the boy's shoulder. for once he didn't flinch.

_this sound is giving for the postman_

"how long's it been, anyway?"

"a year tomorrow." george said, breaking his silence.

"shit, it doesn't feel like that, does it?"

he let himself smile. "it's been wonderful."

silence fell upon the couple, a comfortable silence, with the two enveloped in each other's warmth and security.

_another one that's feeling under aurora skies_

"think about it though, george! one whole year of dating! pretty fucking cool, s'snt it!"

george would have never admitted it to his face, but he loved him. maybe it was because he loved him so much, he couldn't find the words to express how he felt, to express his ever undying love. 

eyes that shone whenever he spoke, hair as pale and gold as the sand, skin smooth and tanner than the sun. 

if george was silver, dream was gold.

luckily, his green-eyed idol seemed to read his mind, as he turned and faced him. 

he cupped his lover's face in his and kissed his nose gently, proceeding to rub his cheek. 

"i love you."

"i do too," george said quietly. 

the rest of the day was spent doing couple things and saying them, too. 

before either of them had realised it, the sun was beginning to set, in its golden hues of pink and orange.

"it's beautiful, just like you."

"shut up."

_the sun's sleeping in time for autumn_

his beloved walked to the rocks, humming as he did so, leaving george with his dripping ice cream. he stood up and walked back to where he had shaped the heart, surprised to see that the tide hadn't washed it away. 

he got to work, finding a long thin piece of driftwood to prevent his hands becoming dry and salty. then he gently pressed the stick against the sand, with flowing, solid movements which held the lines in place. he let the lines carry him, with time feeling infinite and limitless in the joy of creation.

with his chocolate ice cream left forgotten on a rock.

soon, his masterpiece had been completed, with only a few minutes before the waves would come and wash it all away. 

the pattern was a wide decor of hearts, in different styles, shapes, sizes. patterns he had seen in memories and wonders long forgotten, only living on in the ebbs of his mind. 

and at the centre of it all was one name.

his golden boy, his perfect valentine, his virtuous escort, his beloved lover. 

his one and only dream.

_sticking down your leaves on grass_

he heard his boyfriend behind him, speechless at the marvel george had conceived. he felt arms wrap around his waist, cocooning him in a ball of zeal and ador.

"all for me?" dream mumbled into george's neck.

"all for you," george swallowed. "and now we better go before the tide wipes us out as well."

"but your work? don't you want to at least take a picture? it's so beautiful, love."

the dark haired boy thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "nah, it looks bad."

_and i don't know just where we've got to go_

dream lifted his head and blinked. "i'd say it looks the opposite of bad, darling."

george didn't react, just staring at the lulling waves. they stayed like that for a while, until eventually he spoke. 

"anyway, let's go. sand's getting _everywhere_."

he walked out to the slight indent in the ground which had begun to resemble a path, leaving dream behind with the stick in his hand. 

he then rubbed out his name, and replaced it with the word 'george'. 

the blonde followed his boyfriend off the beach, not taking his eyes off the perfect sight for a moment.

_and i don't know just where we've got to go._

now it was time to live.


	4. ETERNITY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from @Lume !  
> this took a long while to write, so i hope you enjoy :]

* * *

"schlatt? you bastard, wake up! you can't just sleep for the rest of time!"

"hrmmmpt...whassat?"

the voice scoffed. schlatt's eyes, blurred from exhaustion and cheap booze, could only make out a stringy figure clad in what appeared to be a beanie and jumper.

 _some man_ , thought schlatt. _who the fuck wears beanies and doesn't expect to be bullied in 20__?_

"look, asshole, if you're gonna pretend like you don't know who the hell i am-" said the voice, cutting off in schlatt's mind as a sickly smell of whiskey messed with his mind and vision even more.

_wait, wait a minute._

\- casual bitchiness? check.

\- british accent? check.

\- yellow sweater? check. 

he grinned, tilting his head slightly. _it's the stupid fucking virgo._

"didn't i banish your shapely ass? why are you here?" the goatman said groggily, still with severely obscured vision. he swerved his head round, trying to familiarise himself with the foreign surroundings. 

"if you've tried to hold me ransom, that ain't gonna work-" he was cut of by his enemy placing a finger to his lips. 

"shut up, schlatt. are you really that dumb?" 

"do i look dumb to you?!" 

"yes."

reaching into his inventory, schlatt attempted to pull out a sword; but there was nothing there; all his items had been wiped. upon seeing schlatt's confusion, wilbur began to laugh. it was a shame that only now he could now see properly, the second someone starts to chide him.

there was something off about them both, however, he couldn't quite place it. 

maybe it was how wilbur looked much paler, almost like he was fading away at the edges. he was almost grey.

"mr jschlatt, do you want me to drop a bombshell on you?"

schlatt nodded, still taking in his surroundings, turning his head round, trying to stay upright. he and wilbur seemed to be in a forest near the outskirts of the spawn point. he tried to stand up, but fell over in the process, being saved by the taller man, who reached out to grab him.

"there really is no good way to say this," he sighed, looking around one final time. schlatt tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. "-you're dead."

it was very silent for a moment.

then it all came flooding back. the taste of alcohol still lingering on his tongue; the tiredness, the confusion. the normal baby-blue jumper and sunflower yellow one replacing cold suits and dark long overcoats.

he was well and truly dead.

and he was dead with his mortal enemy, his biggest vice; just his luck, really.

"schlatt? hey, j. you can't pretend forever. you may as well suck it up."

schlatt growled at him. "'least you didn't care about dyin', wil. you and your symmetrical british asscheeks accepted it. how'd i die? alcohol overdose. far less glamorous than however the fuck you died-"

"i blew up your- _my_ country then made my father stab me."

wilbur motioned to a dark patch on his stomach, a deep red coating of blood had soaked into the fabrics he wore.

"-right. so don't hit me with your 'holier than thou' speech. cause i don't wanna hear it. and as far as i know, it ain't either of our 'manburg's', cause you handed all control to that kid tubbo before blowing it all in his fuckin' face!"

he stumbled up again, trying his best not to rely on wilbur's arm for support. the taller man didn't seem to care all that much, humming slightly with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"don't pretend like you were the good guy, schlatt. you're as guilty as me."

he didn't try to pretend he was wrong. instead, the hybrid swung his head around, looking at the dense forest covering the area.

"where on god's green earth are we, soot?"

"don't ask me. somewhere near spawn, i guess."

"very helpful."

limping towards the mangled set of blocks and trails that they recognised as spawn, the two men would continue to snide at each other, which at least helped create a sense of normality to an otherwise extremely abnormal occurrence.

schlatt began to notice the little things that had set him off before wilbur had spilt the information. the pair's skin had become paler than before; with each step it seemed like wilbur's eyes lost more of their glow, becoming greyer and grimmer. he wondered if he was undergoing the same transformation.

after reaching a set of planks by spawn, it became increasingly obvious that the life of a ghost was not as interesting as being alive, to almost neither of the men's surprise. "what the fuck do we do now, dick'ead?" muttered schlatt, evidently still salty at having died before wilbur and now being stuck with him for god knows however long.

"i dunno. something."

schlatt, now with a roaring hangover, was not going to let _wilbur soot_ get the better of him. so without a word, he got up of the measly plank bench and started to walk off, catching the other man by surprise. "hey, wait! schlatt, you can't just-"

he let out an animalistic grunt, silencing wilbur. "there's nothin' to bloody do, wil. now fuck off before i get all nasty on your british butt. you just want to piss me off."

even in death, still enemies.

he may have been a deadly rival, but wilbur had to find out the hard way that being a ghost is incredibly lonely. an unwanted sense of melancholy swept his mind like a mindfield.

no one else around him could either see or hear him, giving him an incredibly overwhelming feeling of dejection. 

he felt cold, and felt like he was getting colder. he hated it. 

there was only one other person he knew of that was here with him. and he himself had pulled away. maybe this was hell for what he had done to his former people, his country, his _family._

and there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind, like he _deserved_ it. 

he wondered how schlatt felt about the whole dying thing. he definitely didn't want to spend any amount of time with him, seeing as he had walked off. 

but then wilbur wouldn't want to spend time with himself either. 

he found that he had been slowly walking towards a cliff off the edge of the spawn, a place completely untouched by the bustling country only a few miles away. 

he looked over the edge of the drop, eyes glassy; with only one question in his mind.

_can ghosts die twice?_

it was a long drop. 

and windy. prehaps he would simply blow away, like dust in a breeze. he gave a sad smile.

he barely heard schlatt's shouts appearing behind him as he took a step, but not falling in the usual sense; he fell backwards into suprisingly warm arms, pulling him further and further away from the rim of the precipice, with wilbur not making it very easy, screaming and kicking, tears rolling down his face. he heard schlatt whisper some comforting words into his ears, but barely had time to register them before fainting, and accepting the darkness.

wilbur woke to see a man standing over him, in a state of apparent distress. he grinned when he saw wilbur stirr and open his eyes. 

"god, wilbur, don't ever fuckin' do that again, i swear."

it was warm, being next to another person, or ghost. a far cry from the endless sadness he had felt from being alone on a windy cliff face. 

"you feelin' okay wilbur?"

the taller gave a croaky groan and tried to sit up before doubling back in pain. "how fucking hard did you cling onto me, schlatt?

the taller regretted his words as he saw the grimace on his friend's face. "i mean, i'd hope you'd grip on as tight as you could too, if your friend was gonna jump off a fuckin' cliff." 

"god, schlatt, i didn't think, i'm sorry."

schlatt sighed and cupped his head in his hands. "wilbur, wilbur. what the fuck are we gonna do? we're fucked, wil. what do we do? we're fuckin' dead!"

hands still on his head, the man knelt down, close to tears. suddenly, he whipped his head around and faced wilbur again. "and i'm stuck with the one person who despises me the most; 'course," his voice was higher now, "it's just my fuckin' luck, innit?" 

tears had almost begun to appear on his face; wilbur wanted to be a good friend, and help him, comfort him; maybe do some stupid bullshit along the way - but he couldn't, he could barely stand due to the shock. he was helpless, and schlatt knew it.

"wil, wil. i feel so fuckin' cold."

wilbur instinctively tried to move towards him, but this time it was schlatt who saved him from falling on his face, despite being a complete wreck. the motion caused the pair to laugh through cranky sobs that racked their heads.

"schlatt, if i'm gonna be stuck here with you, i think we should, uh, make peace? so... what do you say, pax?"

there was a begrudging pause.

"pax."

clutching his chest, wilbur limped upwards, arms gently extended, reaching out to schlatt. the bronze haired man's sobs had completely subsided as he joined the embrace, smiling against drying tears.

maybe death was just the next step for them, then.

the question was, what would come next?

"wilbur, what do you say we go fuck with some people?" he wiped the tears from his eyes and grinned. 

"schlatt, m'dude, i don't think i'd like anything better."

it took a while to get to the area that had been through many names; dream smp, l'manburg, manburg; it was always for the same area, same people. not anymore. now there was a new era, a new l'manburg, if you will, and construction of the new land had already begun, with a new leader. 

"you ready to see it, wil?" asked schlatt, rather softly. after all, seeing the land you had previously blown up and led can be rather jarring. 

"yeah. let's go."

the pair left the drab spruce forest and emerged into a glow of polished golden sun, speckled with flecks of small stars that had begun to emerge in the dying light. wilbur could have almost conviced himself that nothing had changed; he felt warm and together with his companion.

he took a deep breath and then exhaled. 

"c'mon, i can see the docks, hurry your sorry butt over here!"

the tall brunette took one last look at the horizon and smiled. 

_i hope they're all doing ok._

schlatt had found his way into new l'manburg's suburbs, with wilbur in close pursuit. the trees bend down and shook, as if bowing to welcome the past leaders of the greatest land ever conceived. they ended up passing the rubble of part of the walls that had defined the city, stopping to see a familiar face cross the ground, as if surveying the progress they had made on the crater in the ground. 

and the progress had been vast, with new buildings having been built, and past errors being fixed and covered: the place looked like never before, thriving, shining in the sinking sunlight. 

"wil..."

he turned to schlatt, who was pointing up at one of eret's towers, where a lone figure stood, staring out at the land. 

"it's fundy, man."

the figure, fundy, tipped his cap and turned to recede into the bowels of the structure. the taller man shook. "it's my boy...my boy. schlatt, i've got to go see him. i've got to-"

"go. i'll be right here."

wilbur, tears forming in his eyes once again, smiled thankfully at his new-old friend, and ran as fast as his long legs would carry him. 

he screamed his son's name out, over and over, yet he didn't flinch. so wilbur kept screaming, yelling till his voice was hoarse and almost gone. fundy was sitting by the docks now, legs swinging over the pierhead, eyes closed and humming softly. wilbur was panting now, voicebox strained to its very limit, silent tears pouring out his eyes. 

he sat down next to his son, smiling softly as he watched the sun gently fade below the ebbing waters. he felt calm, even if his own flesh and blood couldn't see him. oh, he wished he could talk to him, comfort him, ask him how he was. nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, just him, his child, and the waves. 

fundy's eyes began to droop slightly, so wilbur reached his hand and ruffled his hair. he almost jumped back in shock when fundy leapt up, and turned his head around to look behind him. 

_so they just can't hear or see me._

_i guess they don't see things that they don't want to._

"da-wilbur? is that you?"

he had promised not to cry. 

fuck. he couldn't help it. his son could see him, his _son_. "my boy, fundy, my-" he began to choke up for what seemed to be the 10th time that day, praising whatever god had performed such a miracle. "dad...dad! wilbur! it's- it's really you! are you," the dutch man stopped, thinking over his words, "are you alright?" 

_"you don't hate me, fundy?"_

the boy shook his head, smiling tearfully. "i'm so sorry."

_"i should be the one apologising, my boy, my- i left. i'm-"_

there were no more words to speak, so wilbur encased his son in the tightest, most loving hug he could muster in such a state. "we've missed you, wilbur."

unbeknownst to his son, wilbur turned his head, hearing footsteps. 

"see, wil? you do have something after all."

he turned to face schlatt, ready to thank him, but he had already turned and started to walk away.

"i'm glad you've got people that still love you."

his voice was shaky, bitter almost, but not condescending, at least not to wilbur. he remembered schlatt's addiction. his spiralling wellbeing;

and so he loosened his grip on his son, messed up his hair one last time, and chased after schlatt. 

after all, ghost buddies have gotta stick together. and fundy, well, he has his friends to help him out. he doesn't need his father any more. 

before he was too far from the fox hybrid, however, he shouted out to him, not in the normal sense; instead, he called out to his son in his mind, with the words imprinting into his mind.

_'i'm so fucking proud of you, son.'_

then he went back to running after schlatt, laughing at even the smallest of jokes, doing anything he could to make the friend who had saved his life feel wanted again.

and it worked.

fundy, on the other hand, ran his hand through his hair, where wilbur had just minutes prior. he slapped his hat back on his head, and could have sworn he heard a man say something.

_"my boy, fundy, my little boy. you've grown up so much._

_you don't need me anymore, darling._

_just, keep doing what you're doing._

_i'm so fucking proud of you, son."_

he smiled at the words. 

"goodbye, dad."

it turns out that being a ghost isn't too bad after all. 

especially when you spend it with someone you've become close to. someone like jonathan schlatt, wilbur's former enemy turned best friend all over again. 

most of the time spent as members of the ether included watching the growth of nations, 'accidentally' leaving helpful little things for friends; neither of the pair wanted to interact with the living. it was too sad, too emotional. 

one particularly interesting time included schlatt finding a barrel of emergency drinks he had kept for, well, emergencies.

"hey wil, you wanna down a couple o' these bad boys?" wilbur smirked at the sight, and laughed at his friend's face when he realised he could drink. "shit, all this time? i've never even felt hungry." with this revelation in mind, they drank a lot of beers that night, leaving them both a pile of hiccuping messes on the floor after they had finished, with grins going from ear to ear, laughing about the stupidest puns they could come up with.

it seemed like the fun would never end.

but eventually, all good things must.

it all started on one of the calmer days in the city; when schlatt awoke from being 'dormant' (it wasn't particularly like sleeping, it was more like being frozen) to find wilbur gone; so he searched and searched, till eventually finding him back at the same place he had awoke from, evidently distressed. 

"schlatt, what the fuck? you've been ignoring me for ages now, it isn't funny anymore."

"what? i've just seen you, i've been lookin' the whole day."

the two looked at each other with faces of incredulity and disbelief. judging by the look of pure shock they both had on their faces, they knew they could trust each other;

something was very wrong.

the next time it happened, schlatt had been idly talking to wilbur, when suddenly he began to fade. the two went into a complete panic, and when schlatt's hand had completely faded, it stopped, leaving him with no hand at all; not a ghostly one or a real one.

"what in the everlovin' fuck is happening?"

"fuck...schlatt, look." wilbur motioned down to his own arm, which was also beginning to fade.

"what do we do? wilbur, we're fuckin' fading away? what does that _mean_?

"we're fucked, schlatt. completely and utterly fucked."

the shorter man sighed, eyes glassy and unseeing. "who am i kidding, wil. we weren't ever meant to stay here forever."

"true," the lanky brunette answered quietly. "true."

there was a gut-renching silence.

then schlatt, stood up. 

"wilbur, i can literally see myself fadin'. what do you say, we have a last look around, for old times sake?"

"...why not."

and so they did. 

they visited the land's starting point, going all the way from spawn to the very end. wilbur's ball house, the new l'manburg, the docks, skeppy's mansion, ponk's land; tommy's embassy, niki's bakery, all underground railworks leading to go knows where; wilbur, as a final act of friendship, even showed schlatt the land where he had started a new revolution - pogtopia. 

by that time, they had almost become floating heads on necks, barely a trace of their old bodies remaining.

using a discarded minecart rail, they drove back to new l'manburg, of which part of it had become a tomb, engraved with two names. a man was sitting at the bottom of it, rearranging a set up that had been left there.

"dad?" cried wilbur. 

phil swung his head around, just making out the faint outlines of two men - one slightly taller than the other, both smiling, with the shorter's hand shoved in what were probably pockets, if they could have only been seen better.

"wil? schlatt? is that you?"

another tearful reunion, this time with schlatt included, grinning, for feeling a part of a family again.

"dad, we don't have a lot of time left. as you can see, we're fading."

phil's face crumpled, grimacing at the prospect of never seeing his son again; or even knowing he was watching from afar.

"where will you go now? what comes next?"

schlatt laughed. "honestly, phil, we ain't got a clue. but i think we'd like you to pass on a few messages for us, if that's alright."

the blonde man nodded.

"firstly," murmured wilbur, his hair becoming ever more translucent by the minute, "tell tommy to stay strong for all of them, o.k? oh, and to not get into any more wars, if he can help it." the father and son smiled, both knowing that it would be a hard thing to control.

"secondly," schlatt said, "tell tubbo i'm sorry for killin' him with that crossbow. i know it wasn't me directly, but i ordered it."

"tell him that he's gonna be a great fuckin' leader, and that mr. wilbur soot here couldn't have picked a better candidate." phil nodded, face now beaming despite both the men almost being gone.

"to niki, tell her to stay strong too, and to help fundy with losing his dad. i know he'll be a lot stronger-" wilbur supressed a sob "-but tell her that she's been a great friend. we'll both miss her."

"to everyone else, let's just say that our lives wouldn't be the same without 'em," schlatt laughed, with his lanky companion joining in. "yeah, we don't know where the fuck we're off to next, but i'll be keeping your son's english anus in check, mark my words."

"wilbur..." phil muttered sadly. 

"dad, dad, dad. you'll be fine."

"i should never have killed you. you're my son."

"and you're my dad(za). goodbye, phil. i love you."

"i love you too."

and with that, the two faces faded away, the ghost of a smile left in the wind, with sweet murmurs being left all over the world. 

had he been dreaming it all? phil thought. he would have gone ahead with this idea, when he saw a singular, red tie and a light grey beanie, lying in the men's exact locations. 

_no_ , phil thought. _it wasn't a dream_.

* * *

_"let's make a toast. to this life, and to the next, wilbur soot."_

_"good luck out there, j.money. you'll need it!"_

_"awh, shaddap, you british bastard. don't make me an alcoholic again."_

_"what do you think will happen to us? in the next life, i mean. you're a catholic, don't you have any ideas?"_

_"nope. not a bloody clue, soot. but i think that we should meet up there sometime."_

_"sounds good, j. i suggest you bring the drinks."_

**~** 𝓯𝓲𝓷

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> platonic ghost! schlatt and wilbur.  
> thank you for all the support!  
> 


	5. FLOOR TWENTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who wanted a karlnap :]
> 
> especially @KamiWheyy and the wonderful person who simply called themselves 'Pogchamp'.  
> you are the pogchamp people here.

* * *

"hey, karl? boss wants you in his office."

karl had been slumped over his desk, exhausted from the lack of sleep. he had been up all day at the large office complex, working on various papers and scribbling down various meet-ups and times for certain 'friends'. 

it was unfortunate that his overcaring nature meant that he usually didn't realise when people had started to simply use him for work standards; getting him to complete pile upon pile of work for themselves; sometimes he figured it out, other times he never really realised. 

he had never really been acknowledged by any of the higher-ups, so when he got a call that day, waking him up from his sleep-deprived state, he almost laughed with triumph. 

maybe a promotion? a pay raise? he got up from his desk and entered the lift, which was already occupied by a man in a suit, who was slightly shorter than him. karl gave him a small smile and took a place next to him in the narrow space. the man hesitantly returned the smile, obviously not wanting to start a conversation; which karl lamentably did not pick up on. 

finally, the lift came to the highest level of the building, **floor 25**. both men stepped out and karl left the shorter in the dust as he tried to pretend he wasn't completely ecstatic.

the boss had his office located at the very end of the hallway, carpeted with lush red flooring and deep, dark wooden walls, lit up with glowing gold hues from expensive lamps and trinkets. 

he knocked three times, ignoring the small noise from behind him as he barged through the door almost before he had heard the 'come in'. 

a tall man sat at his desk, looking up from a set of pages and giving karl and, the swaggering man behind him who had just arrived, a warm smile.

"karl! i don't believe we've spoken before!

you probably know me as mr. beast, but for all intents and purposes, just call me jim." he motioned for him to sit down, then turning and talking to the man from the lift. "nick, how are you? it's certainly been a while," he laughed. the man, nick, laughed back, but karl could feel his eyes boring into his back, silently judging him, almost.

"karl, this is nick. he's the reason i called you up here, in fact."

karl's face contorted into a frown, but only for a minute, before reforming to its normal smile. "you've been doing a lot of great work here, karl, and i thought it would be better if you had a change of scene," jim said. 

"nick here needs a secretary, and i thought you'd be the perfect contender! how does all that sound?" he grinned, not with any malice, but karl almost felt intimidated, suddenly.

he heard nick cough in the background, eventually coming slightly forward and finally speaking. "i think i'll be alright with karl, jim. thanks."

the brunette spluttered. "wait, wait, wait. i didn't-" jim cut him off, telling him that the pay would be considerably higher; he then explained all the little details and work the job included.

it didn't seem all too different from his normal work. 

and so karl reluctantly agreed to move into a new office block, as secretary to a _different_ business partner, with this 'nick'. 

yeah, like that would lead to anything.

karl's new job really didn't entail much from his old one; write letters, sign letters, give his new boss coffee, write some more letters, sort out documents; for the next two months, the only real change was the people and enviroment he was now surrounded in. 

his boss, nick, was not one for talk. karl had to learn that the hard way, trying to ask him something, and getting promptly kicked out of the room. he was surprisingly crude, even a little bitchy to karl at times; but he was getting paid, so he didn't particularly care. 

the real problem were the people back outside, in the main building.

like from his previous establishment, the workers found out quickly that karl was very generous when it came to work. so after a while, he wasn't only doing his bosses' work-help, but also basically the entire offices', and it was starting to take its toll again. he went back to getting very little amounts of sleep.

there was one girl who did keep helping him out, though. her name was niki, and she had formerly been secretary to nick before there had been some problems. niki called these 'personal' issues; apparently something had happened with pets, and he pushed her back down to lower levels with a worsened pay.

"he's a horrible, spiteful man-" said the blonde woman angrily, going on another rant about foxes and fish. karl grinned slightly and tilted his head. "you _are_ talking to his secretary, niki." 

she gasped. "shit!" she straightened her back, leaning against the border separating the workspaces. 

"no, no. i'm joking, he doesn't even let me go in his office unless i bring him some kind of drink." the girl gave him a look. "that just proves my point, doesn't it? he barely lets you go into your own clerk's office!" 

karl gave a small nod of agreement. "i guess. but he's probably just-" he stretched out slightly, hands reaching behind his head "-stressed."

the fair haired woman looked at him cautiously. "karl, are you okay? you look very tired. how late did you stay up last night?" the man closed his eyes and yawned slightly. 

she picked up a glass of water, cradling it in her hands before taking a sip.

"i dunno, maybe midnight. the janitor let me stay overnight, chris had some papers he wanted to finish-" 

she spat the water out into the air, receiving several dirty looks from fellow co-workers.

"what the fuck, karl? let chris do his own work! look at all these papers, you can't expect to get all this done for everyone!" she had motioned to numerous stacks of accountancy paperwork, with around half having been completed. 

"i don't know, niki, i had to accept, y'know? they seemed so stressed and had other things going on, i felt bad, okay?" 

the girl flicked her gold hair over her shoulder and laughed bitterly. "karl, love, i saw chris at a club on friday. what bullshit excuse did he give _you_?" however, her tone softened as she saw karl's grimace, with him finally realising what had been happening for the best of two months. 

"karl, do you want me to talk to nick? i don't like him all that much, but if he hears about this, he should be fair." she didn't exactly give him time to answer, though, since she had just spotted chris and the boss, nick, talking, with chris apparently getting praised for the work ' _he_ ' had done. 

the brunette saw niki's eyes blazing, and nick's eyes moving towards her desk, where karl himself was placed. he quickly subverted his eyes and kept taking small glances whenever he could. 

"sir, can i talk to you for a moment? it's extremely important." nick rolled his eyes slightly and gave a firm nod. "it better be," he said gravely. karl had barely ever heard his voice before; accented and deep. he caught himself looking at the boss, and forced himself to turn away. 

"spit it out, niki. i don't have all day."

before karl could hear her explain, he ran out of the room, up a tediously long flight of stairs, and into his private office. after falling in his chair, he passed out, head slumped on the hard wood.

he woke to a man gently shaking his arm, whispering slightly in a gravelly voice. it was soothingly familiar. karl groaned a little and half-opened his eyes, spotting a digital clock on his desk, sporting the time; **22:25**. he gasped and quickly leapt up from his rough office chair. 

"ah, karl. sorry for waking you." 

nick stood in front of him; he had been slightly bent over when he had woken him. the older man fumbled slightly on his words; apologising to nick for staying so late; etcetera, etcetera. the boss just gave him a small smile. "really, it's no worry. hey, i'm sorry," he added nervously, a look karl hadn't seen on his face before. 

"nikita told me about everything. i wanted to let you have some rest before i woke you and apologised," he murmured, eyes soft and brown. he must have caught karl staring, since his face went slightly pink, a shade of rosewood.

"it's fine, it's fine-"

"ah."

in his hurry to stand up and move round to his boss, karl had accidentally fallen right into him. nick instinctively caught him. the air was palpable. you could have cut right through it with a butter knife. 

the two pairs of hazel brown eyes met; their faces were close enough for karl to be able to tell that nick's breath had hitched. his stomach was doing a loop-dee-loop by this point, utterly helpless in his arms. 

he didn't really mind, though. it was warm and comforting, even with the room's tension levels skyrocketing.

"uhm, sir?" 

"shit, sorry," he cursed, loosening his grip and allowing the older to step down on his own two feet. he rubbed the back of his neck arkwardly. "uh... really, just call me nick. i think you've been here long enough to drop formalities," giving a shy laugh.

karl returned the gesture with a grin. "'course, nick."

things in the room felt a lot better after that, despite the hour and arkwardness. 

everything finally felt right.

**months later : timeskip**

"hey, karl! how've you been?" 

a woman with golden hair ran up to the taller man, who waved back. he was at the coffee machine on a lower floor; she hadn't seen him for a while, since he was often out with the boss on meetings, or back in his own snug little office.

"niki, hey! it's been a hot minute, hasnt it? i've been good, you?" 

it was a pleasure, thought niki, to see karl back to his normal state. "oh, i'm doing fine. i see you've been getting sleep recently? that's great!"

"yeah, yeah. hey, thanks for having that talk with nick. it's helped us a lot."

she gave a small smirk. "calling him by his name now, huh? i see my talk really did help." her face then broke into small giggles.

"mhm. i'm glad. after all; i don't think anything that's been happening for the past few months would have happened otherwise."

he stared at a bird outside the office window. there was a brief silence, only broken by the whirring of a printer and the soft howling of the breeze, coming in from an opened window. karl seemed as if in a trance-like state before breaking out of it, and accepting a near-overflowing mug of the coffee from niki, who'd saved a spillage just in time.

he savoured the bitter, warm drink, with its aroma reminding him of a similar feeling and smell that he also loved. he fiddled with a ring on his finger.

"yeah... thanks. it wouldn't be the same otherwise."

he smiled at her one last time before placing the mug back, and heading to the lift, satchel strew across his shoulder, where a familiar face met his. 

"hi," he said breathlessly, "have i seen you before?" 

his boss, no, his lover, closed his eyes and laughed, then cupping karl's face in his hands. the older man squealed, indignant that the elevator door hadn't yet closed. 

"love, i couldn't care less."

resting their heads against one another, they smiled and closed the door, leaving a few bemused workers and a happy blonde girl on the floor. she smiled, glad to have helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIHI!!
> 
> ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE!
> 
> wow, 2199 hits and 84 kudos (at time of writing this) in like a week? pretty poggers, if i do say so myself :].
> 
> keep an eye out for some feret, skephalo and platonic sleepybois writing soon...
> 
> and definitely more schlattbur, there's been a lot of great requests! 
> 
> the earliest request i had that i didn't write has been for a feret oneshot, so that will probably be the next one. all your requests have been read and duly noted.
> 
> SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT @dont_judge_meh123 ! IT'LL BE OUT IN,,,,,,LIKE A DAY???
> 
> i'm writing a wattpad schlattbur book, i might cross-post it but then it might be just for the wattpad users, so if you'd like to know when i write that...  
> (awildcatikin on wattpad skskksks)
> 
> thank you again for reading my shitty writing lololol <3


	6. MALL STREETLIGHTS

* * *

the fact that it was winter didn't stop schlatt from going outside in just a hoodie.

he needed air. he needed room.

he needed to think.

the darkening sky faded into the vibrant hues of orange and pink, lighting up the streets around him in the same soft light. there was a waterfront too, a river lined with boat houses that looked like dark omens of death's very own, bobbing up and down on the water. he looked out at the eerie, black ebbing water for a moment before turning.

he smiled grimly at the dying light, continuing down the lane; thinking, pondering. a lot had happened recently. the introduction of a certain man back in his life had not helped matters. 

but it had at the same time.

the man had helped him grow, made him better to himself, to others, to everyone around him; 

and now as soon as he had arrived, he was going. a memory in schlatt's mind. like the embers of a fire that hadn't quite gone out yet. 

still burning as hot as ever. 

he couldn't leave him. he was all he had now. 

was that selfish of him? maybe. but he knew he wouldn't be able to stand living without him again.

it was funny, schlatt thought, that he had gone so long without him. it would have almost been better if...

they had never met. 

his hands were cold, nipped by the jarring iced air, cauing his breath to appear in clouds over his face. he didn't care. he had become used to it now. 

the thought of him made him smile. he felt warmer, somehow. but as his face had left his mind, he was left cold and damp again. he couldn't even remember what colour his eyes were.

the streetlights had dimmed, and time seemed to stand still. the air slowed alongside schlatt's laboured breaths, his vision blackening and flickering. 

he wanted to cry out, but his throat had frozen, choking him, strangling him. he leant against a closed shop's wall and suppressed a pathetic sob. he didn't want to get up. he didn't want to try anymore. 

the sound of a bike whistling past didn't make him move. not even when it stopped before him with a careless drop. it was only when he felt warm gloved hands on his shoulders and aheard a pretty accented voice that he brought his head up arduously. 

"schlatt? schlatt, what the fuck? are you there?" 

he couldn't see the man's face; his vision had died right there and then, leaving him to see a faint glow of a streetlight on the cobbled path, and a pair of disembodied hands gently rubbing his limbs back to circulation. he didn't need to see the man's face. he could have recognised that voice from miles away. 

"wilbur." 

he croaked, letting warm tears run down his face. 

"wilbur, i can't see." 

he heard wilbur's breath stop, and felt the warm hands leave his arm. he struggled to try and get up, to no avail, ultimately crashing back down after only a second of stability. 

"schlatt, wait, please. don't move, okay?"

there was a scraping noise on the pavement from the wheels of a bike, making the frozen man shudder. he then felt the hands return, slowly massaging his body to a normal temperature, then handing him a flask of something light and temperate. 

"drink it. it'll help, i promise." 

he would have drunk it even if it were poison. he cupped the thermal in his cold hands, taking occasional sips. his eyesight began to fade back in to focus, and he gazed uselessly at the face in front of him, earnest, worried brown eyes gazing right back. 

the younger tried to hide a smile. 

"hey, don't fucking smile at me like that, schlatt. you had me so fucking worried!" his voice rose for a second, and the taller, older man ran his long fingers through his hair. 

schlatt grinned though more repressed sobs, making wilbur focus all his attention onto him again. 

now his eyesight had adjusted, he took in his glowing surroundings. wilbur's face was only a small part of the street. but it was one of the best.

the water from former rainfall puddled in indents in the ground, with the bright neon lights from convenience stores and always-open-shopping-malls lighting them up. wilbur stood up and leant off a railing, doing what schlatt had done, watching the methodical sways of the water. 

the remaining light in the street concentrated over wilbur, a glowing gold outline of his body, which had become dark and unseeable. godlike. a gold aura. maybe it was unhealthy to think of someone like that. 

schlatt didn't really give shit. 

wilbur had come back to the shorter boy, who had been savouring the calming drink; tea. he noticed wilbur's shadow over him and looked up, only to have his face caught by wilbur; holding it gently, looking back into his eyes. 

"why'd you do it, darling?"

schlatt's face was bright red by this point, a seething warmth spread through him. and he didn't think it was the tea.

"seriously, schlatt, why?" 

knowing he wasn't going to get an answer, wilbur let go of his face, and fell to the floor next to the bronze-haired man with a depressed sigh, long limbs spread out on the hard stones. there was a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional passing car, or the gentle receding of the water nearby. 

"i don't want you to go."

the taller boy jumped a little at the noise, before slowly turning his body to look at schlatt. his friend. his... what?

"i'll never go if you don't want me to."

he rested his eyes on schlatt's face. it was warmer, softer, more vulnerable. 

"you leave tomorrow."

the curly-locked boy made a sound comparable to a 'tch'. 

"if you want me to stay, sweetheart, i will." he smiled, noticing the pearled-pink haze that appeared on the man's face. it was probably appearing on his own, too. 

"for you, i'll cancel the flight. stay for a few more weeks. how about that?" 

the look of pure joy on schlatt's face was all the conformation he needed to see. 

they must have sat there for hours, but for the pair, it only felt like minutes; any time spent with each other was worth it. 

after all, they had to remember every last bit of it. 

"i'm cold."

"bloody idiot. you're the one that decided to stay here with me."

a rhythmic laugh echoed in schlatt's mind. "i can't just let you stay here by yourself. i leave you for two seconds and you almost freeze to death." schlatt shuffled arkwardly, hoping wilbur would notice; which he did. 

"ah- sorry. but can we go back home now?"

_home. he thinks of it as home?_

"alright."

the shorter man stretched out, then offering his hand to wilbur. he was still shivering slightly. 

"you still cold?" wilbur asked softly, eyes roaming the other's face, his russet hair, his sable-hinted eyes; his lips, tender, crudely chapped, etched in a small smile. the face nodded. 

"yeah, it's pretty fuckin' cold."

in response to this, wilbur walked back to where he had propped his bike, and looked through the panniers, finding a pretty blue coat, just the right size. 

he draped it over schlatt's shoulders, smiling as he did so. he then reached down to pick up the empty thermal flask. 

"thanks wil." the coat went up to his chin, so the taller could see the happiness in his eyes, sparkling brightly. 

"anyway, let's go now. i'm tired as well as bloody cold."

he turned back to pick up his bike, but schlatt was already right in front of him again. 

"uh, j? you good?" 

he could hear him softly breathing under the top of the coat, eyes now blazing. he mumbled something quietly, something that sounded a lot like "i'm sorry". 

"schla-" 

the shorter stretched as high as he could, cupping wilbur's face in his hands, still slightly brittle from the cold. the taller's breath hitched, dropping the flask to the floor with a clatter as schlatt pressed his lips onto his own. 

and it was nothing like wilbur had ever done before. enthralling, ethereal, beautiful, but so simple; it then hit him that his best friend was kissing him at one in the morning in the freezing cold of december. 

really, there was nothing he could do. he wrapped his arms cautiously around the shorter man's waist, eyes half shut and still drooping. tears had begun to form for both of them, in their eyes, shared worry, doubt, pain.

was it love, or was it impulse? 

he didn't think he'd know till later. 

for schlatt, idolisation was not something he liked. but seeing his best friend stand there, halos around his head; he couldn't hold back. 

panting lightly, the pair pulled back. wilbur's hand instinctively reached out to caress schlatt's neck and hair, letting the other cry into his chest; gut-wrenching, broken sobs. he didn't know where they had come from, but he didn't care. 

"how," schlatt wept faintly, "how are we going to be the same after this? i've-" he stopped for a second, with wilbur whispering serenely into his ears, his thumb gracing his cheek, wiping away his tears with a surprisingly gentle look of amor. 

"i've fucked up, wil. i've fucked up." 

"schlatt, schlatt, darling, listen to me. you're fine. it's okay."

it took him a while to realise that he'd been crying, too. 

"c'mon, let's actually get home. you're just tired, j. c'mon."

he pulled him over to his bike, heaving him onto the backseat like some sort of oversized child, letting the teary mess that was schlatt fall onto him gently as he rode back to his apartment. 

schlatt woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar room, cocooned in a soft white sheet. he heard a door nearby creak, and a tall figure moved into the room, blushing slightly as he took a seat on the bed.

"wilbur," schlatt croaked, voice sore and crackled. 

"hey, schlatt. do you feel okay?" 

"yeah, yeah, what's- what's the time?" 

"it's eleven in the morning, j. don't look at me like that. i let you sleep in, be grateful."

wilbur grinned and moved his hand to schlatt's head, threading long fingers through his hair. 

"what happened last night, wil?" 

the motion of hands running though his hair stopped suddenly, almost causing schlatt to cry out. he could just make out a look of guilt and anguish paint across his face, before it fell back into a faint smile. it looked wooden. 

"ah, hah, uh, i found you outside. you were just; very cold. i brought you back to my place, cause it was closest." he looked down nervously, his hands falling into his lap, fiddling with a loose string on his favourite yellow jumper.

"anyway! i've postponed my flight back to ol' blighty, so, uh, i can stay a little longer! is that alright?" 

the shorter man's tired face broke into a grin. "that's great, wilbur. how much longer?" he asked, not wanting for the conversation to die so soon. 

"at least a month? i don't think i've even scratched the surface of places to go in america."

schlatt laughed. "oh, you sure haven't."

there was a slightly awkward silence. 

"alright, then! i'll let you sleep a little longer. 

see you later, my pretty princess!" wilbur laughed as he blew a joking kiss to schlatt, now sitting up on the bed, as wilbur closed the door.

schlatt sighed. he had fucked it. so, so bad. he hadn't wanted to lie to wilbur, his best friend. 'friend', he thought, in very large quotation marks. 

wilbur had certainly remembered the night prior. unfortunately, so did schlatt.

and neither of them wanted to bring it up. 

maybe it should stay that way. unrequited, forever in denial. maybe if he hadn't made a stupid move at one in the morning, in a lovesick-drunk haze; maybe things would be different. 

actually, things would definitely be different. 

as he lay there, with a morning breeze shambling in through an open window, sunrays pouring in, blinding him; he realised one thing. something so small to anyone else, in the grand scheme of things, in the array of the world; but to him, it was the only thing he could think about.

because right then and there, schlatt realised, friends or not, that he wouldn't be satisfied with anyone that wasn't 

wilbur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another schlattbur! take it and weep


	7. TRAITOROUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he/him pronouns for eret because i wrote this when i was a stupid littl idiot

* * *

eret had to be methodical. calculated. careful. if he messed this up, it would certainly be the end for him. even though wilbur's mind had gone to shit, he knew he still loved his son. 

if only he was here to know what alistair had planned. 

he pulled out a shining blue-white potion from his draping cape and drank it. now they wouldn't be able to find him. he'd be able to do the job quickly. 

the man slipped through the trees, passing a couple of people on his way to fundy's base. more specifically, tommy and tubbo. 

he smiled at the boys chatting excitedly, not limited by the exile that the manburg president and his cabinet had set up. but he didn't stop to say hello. mostly because in their eyes, he was still a traitor; and also because he needed to keep his secrecy. after all, him travelling to floris's base, then with finding him dead would leave him as the main suspect. 

he needed to just get the job done. 

he had around a minute left of the potion's effects. that was just enough time. he had been to the fox boy's house before; there was just a final stretch and then he'd - 

ah, shit. 

a loud explosion peirced his ears, deafening him and throwing him to the ground. his face shaped into a rough grimace as his head began to spin. 

a charged creeper had blown up by a wave of zombies; a setback for sure, but it didn't matter. he'd have to spare a minute or two to get his mind back to shape. 

but once the adrenaline had faded, a sudden stab in his side caused him to double over and convulse. half of his stomach was an ugly, deep red, seeping through his shirt. 

then it hit him. he could see himself. 

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he hadn't brung another potion; he hadn't planned ahead that well, presumably. his mind still reeling from the shock and the pain, he staggered forward a couple more steps before coming to a crashing halt on the soft, damp grass. his eyes, blurred and glassy, finally closed slowly.

_so this is how i die, huh?_

_not the most glamorous death i imagined, honestly._

he smiled slightly.

_at least i didn't have to kill a man tonight._

his face fell flat and blank, and his head fell into the darkness.

someone was humming. 

a sweet, melodious tune, joyful, free. familiar, though eret couldn't quite put his finger on it. he had heard it before, somewhere safe. 

was he dead? was this heaven? 

he felt a tug on his arm; a long white strip of clean cloth was being tied on his arm; a welcoming coolness against his heated body. 

he gasped and sat up suddenly. 

"eret?"

a quiet voice murmured from his side. his vision was pitch black; he could feel a second white cloth wrapped around his head, covering his eyes, but he could feel a hand on his bare arm, and a voice calling out for him, calling his name, although his hearing had also been slightly obstructed.

he knew exactly who he had ended up with.

"flo- fundy?" 

eret's voice cracked slightly. of course, only he would be rescued by the very man he had sought to kill. 

"eret! hey, don't try and sit up just yet, you've got a nasty wound. on your side.

go back to sleep."

he leant back into the soft sheets of the bed and closed his eyes, unaware that he had even opened them in the first place. the sight of darkness was familiar to him already, letting a wave of rest fall on him like a blanket. 

sleep had been a bad idea. only in a minute, did his situation fully set in on him. he had do get the job done. 

it seemed an impossible task. 

and now it seemed even harder; what with the man he had been sent to _kill_ babying him and patching him up again. 

"yeah, that's right, take a rest! you'll need it, bee. i don't wanna startle you, but it really is pretty bad. but! i'll fix you up! trust me on this one!" fundy said, a smile evadible in his voice. 

usually that voice and tone would have helped. knowing what he had set out to do made everything the fox-hybrid said yet another stab in the side.

"flor-fundy, please, i can get up," he choked out a hashed response, his throat filling with what seemed like blood. 

"no. look, you're even sick now. i'm insisting you stay." the shorter man's voice was firm. there was nothing he could do but wait. 

in physical terms, eret was getting better. his wound was healing, he had stopped regurgitating the blood, now only occasionally coughing out spots of the red liquid; his improvement had been completely thanks to fundy's care and medical attention. 

mentally, however, there was nothing he could do. eret would never talk to him, instead leaving the shorter perched on a chair, wishing the invalid would talk to him. when he did, he spoke harshly and gave short, fast answers. 

to fundy, this was a stab in the heart. to eret, it was a way of making sure he didn't become any more attached to the man than he already was. it wasn't like he wanted to leave the bright haired boy, with his lighthearted banter and easy laugh; 

but at least if he didn't talk to him, he'd be easier to kill. 

after that, he would never have to so anything violent ever again. he swore that, on the bed at night, as his carer and victim slept soundly on his watching-chair, eyes rested and mouth drooling slightly. 

he had a plan. 

nobody would win, in the end. _but that_ , thought eret, _was_ _the way it always was._

the next morning, fundy woke, surprised to see eret already sitting up in his bed, face still pale, with his eye cover stripped off and lying on the sheets; the taller's eyes still shut with smirk plastered on his face. 

it scared fundy. he tried not to show it, but his orange ears flattening into his head was a little bit of a giveaway.

eret reached over and dusted off his pair of pitch black shades, a content yawn coming from his mouth; he gave a content sigh as the glasses fit onto his face. 

"floris, floris. don't be so scared. this won't hurt in the slightest." 

he winced slightly, standing up and towering over the hybrid, and walking over to a collection of potions in a chest, eventually finding what he had been looking for. 

"i don't want to do this, you know." 

his face softened slightly, holding up a dark red-brown fluid in a bottle. 

"i'll have to tell you everything first. please, don't fight me. you're already makin' this harder than it has to be." 

fundy, shaking at the sight of a deadly potion, sat back on the chair, face crestfallen and eyes watering. 

eret gently lifted his hand to fundy's face, wiping the water away, giving him another dozed look. 

"i was sent to kill you."

the words had exactly the expected effect on the shorter. eret continued. 

"no one else was willing to do it. they forced me, sweetheart, they forced me. please, believe that i don't want to. it was schlatt, him and his posse, dream, all of them, they wanted to make wilbur snap. it was either this-" 

"or everything else." fundy finished, eyes no longer watery, instead gazing hard into eret's own. 

"alistar, bee, let's just get it over with." 

his voice was still shaking, but his stare told eret everything he needed to know. 

"please, god, don't make me do this. we can-" 

he paused, thinking over options. 

"-we could run away! there's still time!" 

fundy's face remained deadpanned. 

"they'd find us, eret. just get it over with. kill me. i wouldn't want anyone else to more."

"please, darling," eret had tears streaming down his face. "fuck, please, please, don't make me live with this."

"it's either this or all of manburg- l'manburg, eret. it'll pay off, i don't matter to this place.

wilbur won't hesitate to pull the worst he can, he _will_ do anything to stop schlatt and dream. if you don't kill me, everyone else is fucked." 

"but- fundy, _floris,_ if you die, wilbur'll still go completely mental." the taller's voice cracked. "we really can't win, we?" 

through tears he didn't know he was shedding, the hybrid nodded. "may as well end it now, right? get it over with." 

hesitantly, the brunette flicked his hair across his forehead, wiping a thin layer of sweat away. 

"please-"

"do it or i will." 

closing his eyes, fundy leant forward into eret, and into the sword, smiling through a grimace. a sharp cry was heard, then he crumpled slowly to the floor, head lowered, with the light fading slowly out of them. 

"you did," the shorter choked out some barely legible words through sobs of pain "-what you had to do."

"fu-fundy," 

"goodbye, bee."

eret was left cradling the body, bloody sword beside him, crying into the day. 

"fundy, are you up?"

a petite blonde-haired woman knocked on the door to fundy's house twice,p; upon getting no answer, she carefully opened the door. 

"fundy? are you in?" 

she turned a corner, into the man's room. 

she gasped. 

there were two bodies, a taller one cradling a bloodied corpse, gaping holes in their chests. 

she stifled a scream. 

“e-eret? fundy?” 

she approached them, gingerly flicking bloodstained hair off a pale face. she stared at the faces. 

together.

death had come to them on tugged smiles, resting in each others arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for dont_judge_meh123 ! and anyone else that awanted a feret or angst :] 
> 
> sorry if the ending (or the whole thing lmao) seems rushed, i’ve been pushing out shit a lot in a couple of days so i wanted to finish this off and post another schlattbur. (lol)


	8. STARSTRUCK BUG

* * *

_you would not believe your eyes  
_

_if 10 million fireflies_

_lit up the world as i fell asleep_

two men, sitting on a beach, hand in hand, watching the waves lap against the rocks with a gentle stupor.

"it's so dark."

"i like it like that."

the shorter of the two men turned his head skyward, towards shining stars in the deep ebony night.

"besides, you can see the stars wihout the light pollution. look, there's sirius!"

"the dog star?"

the shorter nodded.

"what about that one? is that a star?"

"i think that's a planet. probably venus."

the taller of the pair laughed, a sweet chiming sound which made the other smile.

"god of love. why, schlatt, i didn't know you were such an astronomy nerd."

_'cause they fill the open air_

_and leave teardrops everywhere_

_you'd think me rude but i would just stand and stare_

schlatt groaned and held his face in his hands. "bloody hell, soot. you can't just get off my case for a second, can you?"

the two sat in another round of relative silence, letting the dark water swish around their legs, soaking their shoes and socks.

not that they really cared.

"i guess that's a downside of the city. no stars to look at."

schlatt turned to look at the taller man,

half his face illuminated by a bright glowing moon.

his eyes looked out at something far, far away, searching the horizon.

_i'd like to make myself believe  
_

schlatt basked in his splendour, a look of pure wonder creeping up on him, threatening to show at any moment.

"wilbur, you're beautiful."

snapped out of his reverie, wilbur turned to face schlatt.

"so are you."

a warmth crawled up schlatt's neck, and so he loosened his jumper's firm grip on his body.

_that planet earth turned_

_slowly_

once again, he turned upwards to the stars, gleaming with some kind of hubristic mastery, almost teasing him for not making a move.

jonathan schlatt was his name, and he was no pussy.

"look, there's venus again." he whispered breathily, voice only just audible.

wilbur followed his eyes, before dropping his head gently on the shorter's shoulder.

"ah-"

sharp caramel eyes met chocolate brown and time seemed to stand still.

_it's hard to say that i'd rather stay awake when i'm asleep  
_

their eyes locking, the taller moved his head from the sanctuary of schlatt's shoulder and sat straighter, tilting his head slightly, like he was looking for a dose of approval.

and he got it.

the two of them wrapping arms around the other, encapsulated in a safe, warm embrace.

_'cause everything is never as it seems_

schlatt tasted like everything good; a favourite day, lavender, drunken smoke, a haze of violets; perfect.

so, so perfect.

wilbur felt arms around his waist, gripping onto him, securing him; that was when he knew he'd never be alone, ever again.

even long after they broke apart, wilbur could taste the lavender.

he didn't think he'd ever forget it.

schlatt was slightly out of breath, panting slowly. "i- i mean,"

"do you know i love you, schlatt?"

he paused, waiting for an answer.

"it's pretty bloody obvious, isn't it? i love you too, you-"

taking a short breath, the shorter leaned into wilbur's face again, kissing all over, watching his friend's body go limp and grasp at his chest, pleadingly, frantically grabbing at schlatt's jumper.

"take it off, take it off!"

schlatt smiled, speckling small purple marks all over wilbur's now exposed collarbone.

_leave my door open just a crack_

"it's cold, baby boy, i'm not stripping for you yet."

"fine," wilbur gasped, attempting to roll his eyes, placing his cold hands under the sky blue jumper instead, smirking gaily when he heard a soft sound come from the chapped-red lips of the younger.

"f-fuck, wilbur."

the shorter's head arched back, eyes pooling in something more akin to ecstasy than anything else;

 _cause i feel like such an insomniac  
_  
he was perfection.  
absoulte perfection.  
and perfection was his.

"wilbur, wilbur, wilbur."  
hearing schlatt call his name filled wilbur's heart to its' fullest.

eventually they broke apart again, lips swollen and necks bruised beautifully, eyes sparkling in the starred night, faces and bodies warm and glowing.

_why do i tire of counting sheep?_

"that was-" wilbur mumbled breathlessly "-that was" 

schlatt intercepted his words with a small kiss to his lips. 

"-wonderful," he finished.  
  
the sea whirled, vigorously slapping beside the cliffs.  
  
"i'm cold." 

wilbur smirked at the younger, who had evidently just regretted his words. 

"oh no; _oh no you don't, wil._ "

the tall brunette started to pull off his trademark yellow jumper, shivering slightly at the chilling breeze of the sea spray. 

"you did not just do that." 

"i think i did." wilbur smiled and stretched his lanky frame, grinning even more so as he saw schlatt's look of pure wonder and adoration. 

to wilbur, he didn't think he looked all that great. 

to schlatt? he looked godlike. 

_when i'm too tired to fall asleep?_

"aren't you cold in just that shirt?"

another soft laugh. "darling, i'm from england. i'm used to it." 

he draped the sunflower yellow around the shorter's body. 

schlatt gave him a look. "you fuckin' simp." 

"nah, i just love you." 

"my legs are fucking soaking, you wanna head in?" 

_to ten million fireflies_

the younger bronze-locked man grinned and answered with a resounding 'yes'. 

the taller man held out his hand and pulled schlatt up. 

_i_ _'m here cause i hate goodbyes_

"you can let go of my hand now, y'know." 

"i wanna hold hands with you, princess," wilbur whined slightly, making schlatt give in. 

_i got misty eyes as they said farewell_

"you are the most annoying fuckin' idiot ever. why'd i have to fall in love with a british twink?" 

_but i'll know where several are_

wilbur swung their hands up and down, grinning gleefully. "i love you too, princess." 

_if my dreams get real bizzare_

he turned his head and kissed him again, on the nose this time, letting damp hair fall into his eyes and wet shoes run across the sand. 

_cause i saved a few and i keep them in a jar_

"i love you too, idiot." 

and with that, soaked clothes and flushed faces walked slowly back to their home. 

_it's hard to say that i'd rather stay awake when i'm asleep_

_because my dreams are bursting at the seams_


	9. IT'S SUMMERTIME!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after what only felt like minutes, but must have been hours, the boys trudged back to their house, faces red from laughter. the sun was setting, waves of oranges and purples lighting the garden and house in blackened silhouettes.

* * *

sleeping in the same room as tubbo didn't really seem like that big of a deal at first. 

tommy had never done anything like it before; hell, he'd never really had a friend like tubbo before. so getting the invitation to stay the night was kind of a game changer. 

he would have trusted tubbo with his life; but he had never, ever stayed over someone else's house. he had never really met tubbo's family, either, with both parties deciding to let the pair do their thing, as long as they didn't break the law or do anything which was classified as 'really stupid'. 

originally, he would have denied; but after he accidentally-on-purpose broke his brother wilbur's guitar strings, started a full on argument with his elder brother techno by pouring all his hairdye down the drain, and burnt the dinner, in turn pissing off his father, phil; 

yeah, he needed to get out. 

tubbo's family had greeted him warmly, either oblivious or ignorant of his bright red face and scattered cases of his stuff by the doorstep. 

he spotted some familiar faces, like the one of dream, a close friend of his pink-haired-moron-brother techno, who was also tubbo's brother. he gave him a shy grin, which the older blonde returned, proceeding to call phil to tell him about the vagabond that had shown up on their doorstep. 

tubbo's house was warm and comforting, full of yellow and green. plants seemed to be everywhere, with windows opened to their fullest, letting in a crisp natural breeze fill the rooms instead of air conditioning.

"oh, and tommy?" dream yelled from the front room. "tubbo's in the garden."

tommy grinned upon seeing him. he was halfway up a large oak, which had a couple floor plankings nailed to it, albeit messily, and an old playhouse shoved at the top, converting the tree into a hideout. 

"oi, tubbo."

hearing tommy's voice, tubbo stopped ascending the ladder to the treehouse, giving him a large, beaming smile. tommy followed him up the ladder and crouched to get into the small space. 

"i come here when i feel sad sometimes. it's very comforting, see?" the brunette said, vaguely waving his arms around in the air. 

the blonde boy looked around. the walls had been hand painted with bees and flowers, slightly faded but still cheery nonetheless. 

"what if your family comes in here?"

"they'd never! they swore an oath," tubbo replied happily, swaying his upper body to the gentle breeze.

"if only my family'd do that for me," the taller groaned, making the brunette laugh.

tommy spotted a cardboard box, carefully protected in plastic to prevent it from getting damp. 

tubbo, cross-legged, saw where his friends' gaze was going and pulled the box into his lap, pushing the flaps outwards and sticking his hand in. 

"i keep things in here. important things," he added, eyes shining.

"do you want to have a look?" 

tommy nodded, and tubbo finally pulled his hand out, revealing a pamphlet of sorts, with a colourful sticker on the from reading 'memoreies!!!"

the blonde laughed a little at the spelling error, then turned his attention back to the little speech tubbo was giving, peering at the coloured crayon and stickers littering pages of the book.

"an- and on the first page... yeah! look, there's us!"

"huh?" his face fell into a smile going from ear to ear as he saw a picture of him and tubbo, his best and _only_ friend, on the beach together. then when the page was turned, there was another photo of the pair, tommy screaming and tubbo laughing in hysterics as they plummeted down a rollercoaster; when the page turned once again, there were more and more photos, each one as funny and memorable as the last.

"do- do you remember-" tubbo said, laughing over his words "- when you freaked out over that horse-" 

by this point, the two had fallen into a pit of revelry, wiping tears from their eyes, only for them to immediately come back after another story was said. 

after what only felt like minutes, but must have been hours, the boys trudged back to their house, faces red from laughter. the sun was setting, waves of oranges and purples lighting the garden and house in blackened silhouettes.

"what now?"

"come see my room!" 

"you didn't tell me fundy was _that_ fuckin' good at cooking, man."

the pair, lying sprawled on beds and floors at 10pm. 

"i'm stuffed."

tommy glanced at the anolog clock on tubbo's bedside table, noting the lateness of the hour. it was dark outside. pitch black. he could see the moon glimmering in a soft pearled light. 

"we can try sleeping it off."

tubbo stared at him wide-eyed. "sleeping burns calories?" he asked, puzzled, which earnt him a sigh from tommy. 

"it's too late for this, man."

"o.k."

the pair settled down in their respective areas, tommy eventually letting a gentle flood of sleep wash over him. 

"night, tubbo."

"g'night...to..." 

he heard his friend's voice fade into slumber, and shuffled around a little before flicking off the light switch, closing his eyes. it was comforting, being able to get sleep without the sounds of his older brothers' music or games blasting in the background.

at least, he thought.

not even 5 minutes before he had turned the nob for the light, he could hear talking. weird, drowzy talking, which slowly got louder and louder. not like screams, more like the tone of whisper-shouting. 

he bolted upright, eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness of the room. 

he slowly crept towards the window, peeking through the blinds. 

there was no one there. 

there wasn't anybody by the doorway, and the rest of the house was pitch black and quiet. 

he heard the noise again; this time louder and mounted in suspension. tommy whirled around, trying to spot a shadow or a figure to blame. there was none. 

the noise, more so a voice now, seemed to be saying the same thing, over and over again, but tommy's sleep deprived mind couldn't quite pinpoint the source, or the word itself. 

"'ᵐ ᵃᵇᵉᵉ...ⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵉ..."

"what the fuck?" he whispered under his breath, a chill running down his spine.

"ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵉˢ"

the realisation hit tommy as hard as a slap in the face.

"oh my _fucking_ god."

he had been scuttling around like a crab in the depths of the ocean, fisted balled, ready to fight any intruder in a moments' notice;

only for it to have been tubbo dreaming about bees.

of course _he'd_ sleeptalk.

with the mystery solved, tommy crept quietly back into his makeshift bed, doing his best to ignore the mumblings of bees and boxes, and goats and pandemonium. 

at the same time, however, he was glad. he felt almost closer to his friend now, a warmness spreading through him, something that the blanket he now lay under wouldn't quite be able to replicate. 

he shut his eyes, the words coming from the other side of the room slowly ebbing away into the darkness of sleep.

"hey tommy! did you sleep well? apparently i talk in my sleep a little, i hope it didn't bug you?"

the boy in question, with light greyed- bags and some surprisingly bright eyes, nodded cheerfully.

"slept like a rock, tubs." he paused for a moment, face thoughtful. "say, can we do this again some day?"

a twinkle appeared in the shorter's eyes, barely concentrating on the overflowing bowl of milk and cereal and instead focused on his friend's face.

"of course!" he giggled, impatiently brushing hair away from his face. a sudden thought appeared in his mind, making him grin mischievously. 

"we'll have to plan some stuff to do," he whispered to tommy, who's' gaze turned to tubbo's family, all slowly trekking into the kitchen. the only one who looked half awake was dream, looking at the two boys suspiciously. 

"to the next time, tubbo." tommy whispered back, laughing at dream's confused face.

"the next time." said a smiling best friend.

maybe the next time wouldn't be for a while. 

as phil dragged him into their car later that day, to a still-pissed pair of brothers, tommy didn't really care. 

he smiled.


End file.
